


Aliens Made Them Do It

by A_Damned_Scientist



Category: Farscape, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Aliens Made Them Do It, Challenge Response, F/M, Food Kink, Party Games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-04-25 09:50:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14376255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Damned_Scientist/pseuds/A_Damned_Scientist
Summary: Lock two couples in a cell, starve them, add aphrodisiac and then let them loose on the lunch buffet. Simple. The sort of thing that happens every day in fanfic.





	Aliens Made Them Do It

**Author's Note:**

> Written for SC104, which asked for a fic chosen from one of the following prompts. I may have used more than one:  
> 1\. John teaches his crewmates an Earth game  
> 2\. Tell me a story about either Zhaan’s background (something that happens before we meet her on the show) OR about her after her death in S3 OR about both!  
> 3\. John and Aeryn meet Cam and Vala - crossover with SG1 centered particularly around those four characters.  
> 4\. Start off setting: the broken down conduit on the commerce station in Suns and Lovers. The fic should be based on the AU premise that the floor does not give way under Aeryn’s feet. What happens next? You can take it in whatever direction you like.  
> 5\. Guardians of the Galaxy/Farscape crossover  
> 6\. John gets his daughter left behind on the Royal Planet with Katralla and Tyno back - how and when is up to you.  
> 7\. Star Trek The Original Series/Farscape crossover  
> 8\. John and Aeryn feed each other food. :applenana: Where, when, how, why - it is completely up to you. :berrynana:
> 
> And with a title and a rating like that, the nature of any content warning is perhaps self-evident.
> 
> I can honestly say that I even though I had the basic scenario, and even the title, from the start, I never intended smut. I actively wanted to write a smut free fic. Honest. But as soon as I got to the, ummm, denouement, the smut seemed to just… well…. I can’t explain now why it never occurred to me that it was kind of inevitably going to happen. Never mind. Its more suggestive than smutty. Unless you have a dirty mind. WHo am I kidding, of course you do.  
> Better luck with my next fic being smut-free?
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine, more’s the pity.
> 
> Thanks: To Vinegardog for betaing.

**SC104: Aliens Made Them Do It**

 

“Who the frell are they!?” John blustered, trying to peer backwards through the canopy of the Prowler, first over one shoulder, then the other. Aeryn, meanwhile, was half-smiling in concentration. Eyes locked forward, she used every ounce of her piloting skill and experience to try to evade their pursuers as they weaved their way through the asteroid field.

“Quiet, John,” she gently but insistently ordered as she put the Prowler into a barrel roll before inserting them into a trajectory which took them between two converging asteroids. The Prowler slipped between them just before the two massive rocks collided.

“Nice flying, babe!” John congratulated her, craning his head right round and pushing himself out of his seat so he could get a good look behind them. “I think we lost them.”

John could feel the Prowler decelerating, but barely registered that Aeryn didn’t immediately reply.

“Unfortunately... no,” Aeryn replied at last in a slow, low, measured voice. John frowned and slowly turned his head back towards the front. “Because they are right in front of us.” She concluded as his gaze fell on the massive, unidentified ship dead ahead.

“Oh…..  fudge cake,” John sighed, not realising the extent to which he was foreshadowing their imminent fate.

@@@

“Do you reckon they’re using a tractor beam, hun?” John asked as an invisible force pulled them into what appeared to be a docking bay.

“A what?” Aeryn puzzled as the Prowler touched down on the decking with an almost imperceptible bump.

“Well, we can’t sit in here for the rest of our lives,” John grumbled, peering through the prowler’s canopy at the bland, grey docking bay. The décor gave not a hint as to who their hosts might be, or what they had planned. “Best face the music and see what they want?”

“Fine,” Aeryn grumped, her tone indicating that she regarded the situation as anything but fine. But she opened the hatch anyway.

“Step out of your vessel and surrender your weapons!” A disembodied voice ordered as John dropped to the hangar deck.

“Umm, who to?” John enquired as he offered Aeryn his hands to assist her down. She ignored him, dropping to the deck like an angry panther.

“What? Oh, just drop them in the box by the door, then follow the DRD to your accommodation,” the voice remarked, with what seemed like a slightly miffed tone. Aeryn smoothed down her leathers and sighed with considerable unconcealed irritation.

“Well, at least we seem to have been captured by some well-brought up and polite homicidal maniacs this time,” John tried to raise the mood as they made their way to the now-obvious box and began to drop off their weapons. “Did you remember to hand over your hidden guns?”

“I beg your pardon, John?”  Aeryn sighed and rolled her eyes, then glared at him as she began pulling a small gun from behind her neck, then another from her boot.

 “Nothing, dear,” John blushed as a hatch opened, revealing a long corridor and a single, red and green DRD waiting for them.

Having few other evident options, they followed the DRD deeper into the ship.

@@@

“So, are you sure this is the place?” Colonel Cameron Mitchell arched an eyebrow at Vala Mal Doran as they looked around the apparently deserted tavern.  It was fair to say he felt somewhat peeved with her. Again. It was funny how often she got him riled up, really, seeing as he always protested he had no sexual interest in her, no interest at all.

“What’s the matter, Cam?” She pouted back over her shoulder, then grinned flirtatiously as she turned to face him fully. “You’re not afraid, are you? Scared you won’t be able to control your manly urges if there’s nobody else around?” She winked. He sighed, but blushed anyway. Why did she have to DO that? And why couldn’t he control the damn blushing?

“Maybe we should just...”  she cast her eyes around the room. “Take a seat over in that booth and wait for our contact to arrive?”

“And what will we do while we wait?” Cam moaned as he followed her towards the booth, instantly regretting his words when, as she slid onto the bench, she wiggled her eyebrows at him and ran her tongue slowly along a quarter of her upper lip.

“Oh, just blend in, look like we’re a couple on a date or something. Do what two people normally do in a quiet booth. And I’m sure something will come up,” she winked at him.

“This is not a date,” Cam asserted with a scowl and slowly shook his head. Nevertheless, he joined Vala in the booth, shuffling up hip to hip with her. “You’re so not my type.”

“Really,” she grinned, pulling at her lower lip with her index finger, patently doubting his words. “Do tell.”

“Tell what?” Cam frowned, trying to glance around at anything but her.

“Tell me what your type is... Oh, let me guess!” She teased, pulling an apple out from somewhere about her person.

“If you must.” He riposted. She pouted as though his words had hurt her and then took a bite.

“Miss Blonde and Boring from Kansas.” She suggested, her diction barely impaired by her mouthful of fruit. Cam scowled and blushed... again. She stared at him, grinning broadly as she revelled in his discomfort. She swallowed her mouthful and continued. “Well, let me know when you’re ready for a real woman, but until then... apple?”

Cam snorted and, allowing Vala to continue holding it, took a small bite from her offered juicy fruit.

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” she sniggered. “Or was it?” she added, brazenly staring at the table top in the direction of his lap. Her long fingers stroked and strummed on the table above his thighs.

“Where have these contacts of yours got to?” Cam tried changing the subject despite turning beetroot-coloured. Vala smirked.

“I wonder if this place serves pie?” She winked and he blushed harder. “I’d love if you could feed me a slice of nice, creamy p…”

But before she could finish or he could reply a stunning charge, resembling that of a Zat, arced through the booth, rendering both of them unconscious.

@@@

“I wonder if they’ve got anything to eat on this spaceship?” John mused. He was getting hungry and his thoughts were turning to his stomach.

“We’ve been here for.... it must be an arn... maybe two or three,” Aeryn harrumphed impatiently for what must have been the umpteenth time. She strummed her hands on her thighs and glanced around the small and Spartan room in which they seemed to be imprisoned. “When the frell are our captors going to... DO SOMETHING!?”

“Calm down, dear,” John bravely ventured, laying what he hoped was a calming hand on her forearm.

“Don’t calm down dear me, I’ve had quite enough of this stupid...”

Just then, to John’s eternal relief, the door slid open, revealing the same DRD they had encountered earlier. Or if not the same one, an identical sibling. Aeryn and John stared at the DRD for a long few microts. It did nothing but stare back at them, silent, still and inscrutable.

“Looks like waiting time is over,” John remarked.

Aeryn took a deep breath, got to her feet and strode towards it, pausing at the door to look over her shoulder at her still-seated husband.

“Well, are you coming?” She asked with an arched eyebrow.

John allowed himself the slightest chuckle, considering the circumstances, and stood to follow her. If he wanted to get lunch or keep Aeryn happy, doing so seemed to be the only game in Dodge.

@@@

After another short walk along a sterile and near featureless corridor John and Aeryn arrived at another featureless door.

“Do you reckon this is it?” John asked, glancing down at the stationary DRD. It didn’t answer.

Aeryn shrugged and nudged the DRD with her toe. It squeaked in protest, but the door immediately slid aside with a ‘Whesst’ sound.

“Hey, wadda you know, we’re on the Starship Enterprise,” John joked as he stepped inside. Aeryn sighed and shook her head, following John through the door.

“Look Cam, we’ve got visitors!” A dead-ringer for Aeryn brightly announced from behind a rather large table laden with assorted foodstuffs. A man, himself a dead ringer for John, stood and glared at the newcomers in a most aggressive manner.

There was a tense microt as the two couples eyed each other up, clearly both thinking the others responsible for their plight and agitated to meet their doppelgangers. And then everyone spoke at once:

“Why have you brought us here!?”

“What do you want from us!?”

“Why do you look just like us?”

“If someone doesn’t give me some frelling answers, answers I like, I’m going to start hurting people!” Aeryn demanded with enough menace to silence all other speakers.

The tension in the room was palpable, and would have likely progressed to fisticuffs in short order had John not interposed himself between Aeryn and the dining table, and not-Aeryn hadn’t taken a firm hold of not-John’s elbow, holding him back from advancing on the newcomers.

“I reckon...” Not-Aeryn began, speaking slowly and calmly.

“That we all might be prisoners on this ship,” John completed her sentence.

Aeryn arched a derisive eyebrow, objecting on principle to the interloper finishing her husband’s sentence, but bravely resisted the urge to Pantak jab anyone. For now.

“Suppose we start with introductions?” John suggested, trying to pour more oil on troubled waters.

“And you explain why you look just like us?” Not-John demanded, clearly still feeling confrontational and unwisely underestimating Aeryn’s capacity for violence.

“Oh for fraks sake,” Not-Aeryn sighed. “I’m Vala Mal Doran, and this is Colonel Cameron Mitchell of Stargate Command. We were in a bar, then someone zapped us and we woke up here. Where is here, anyway?”

“Some sort of ship,” Aeryn supplied.

“A space ship?”

“Yes, of course it’s a frelling space ship. Does it look like a frelling row boat?” Aeryn snarked back. Cam shot John a sympathetic glance, allowing the atmosphere between them to thaw a degree or two.

“And I’m Commander John Crichton,” John interjected, trying to head off Aeryn’s latest attempt at diplomacy. “And this is my wife, Aeryn Sun.”

“Commandant Aeryn Sun,” Aeryn corrected.

“Commandant?” Mitchell snarked. “Figures.” Fortunately for him, the remark was beyond Aeryn’s frame of reference.

“So, totally not your type?” Vala smirked at Colonel Mitchell, evidently referencing some sort of prior exchange between them. For his part Mitchell gave a sour faced pout and reddened slightly. Aeryn frowned, broadcasting her incomprehension for all to see. John merely shrugged, as though accepting that weird, inexplicable dren was simply a daily feature of his life that he’d had to learn to get used to, although he still kept half a weary eye on Mitchell and half a curious eye on Vala.

“So what sort of strange web have we got ourselves entangled in?” John asked somewhat rhetorically as he claimed a seat at the laden dining table, reaching out a hand to snag what looked an awful lot like a slice of pizza.

“I wouldn’t waste your time, John,” Vala advised with a slight pout and a snake-like glide towards where he was sat. Aeryn shot her a warning glare but otherwise allowed her familiarity to pass, moving to stand possessively behind her husband.

“What the…?” John’s hand stopped in mid-air, half-way to the table.

“Some sort of force field,” Mitchell grumbled.

“It covers all the food…” Vala expanded.

“What sort of warped mind would put out a table of earthly delights and then stick a frelling force field over it!?” John spluttered in disbelief.

“I have no idea,” Vala flounced. “But we’ve been here for HOURS and I’m getting hungry.”

Someone’s stomach rumbled. Everyone stared at the table longingly in a subtle, shared bonding moment.

“Maybe we ought to find something else to do to pass the time?” John broke the silence, snagging Aeryn’s hand as it rested on his shoulder.

“John!” Aeryn warned, eyes flicking at the other couple.

“What? I meant play a game. What did you think I meant?”

Vala and Mitchell watched, bemused and then finally exchanged conspiratorially glances as John and Aeryn switched to some strange, guttural, clicky language and exchanged a series of sotto voce, barbed and bickering sentences. As John and Aeryn grew increasingly red-faced, and the stares between them grew more and more laden with emotion, Vala started to smirk.

“What’s so funny?” Aeryn snapped, reverting to English and tearing her gaze away from John to stare at Vala.

“Nothing,” Vala licked her upper lip, eyes sparkling. “But if you two want to get it over with and get it on, don’t mind me. I’m happy to watch…”

“You…!” Aeryn angrily took a step towards her doppelganger but was held back by John’s hand on her elbow. Vala wisely edged behind Mitchell, interposing the Colonel between herself and the clearly short-tempered Sebacean.

“No fighting in the war room, ladies,” John said firmly. Mitchell sniggered. Aeryn shot her husband a sideways perplexed glance but started to calm down. “No, look… What I had in mind was…  something like I-spy.”

Cam smiled. Vala could not conceal her disappointment.

“Ah!” Aeryn warmed slightly. “Like I spy with my little eye something beginning with G?”

“Yes, honey,” John nodded and rubbed his lip with his thumb before adding. “But these two aren’t going to be able to guess ‘Grolack’.”

Aeryn shrugged, po-faced, to indicate she couldn’t give a single frell. John sighed. “It was grolack wasn’t it?” Her shrug indicated that it might well have been.

“What’s grulesack?” Vala asked. Aeryn ignored her. John pointed to something that looked like it could have been crispy shredded beef.

“OK. Off you go then,” Mitchell said to John. “You go first.”

“I spy,” John paused, eyes scouring the table.  “With my little eye…. something beginning with F…”

“Fried chicken,” Mitchell interjected before the sentence had even died on Crichton’s lips.

“Yeah.” John exhaled, clearly irked that he had been guessed so easily. “Your turn, then.”

@@@

“I think my coma was more entertaining,” Mitchell grumbled maybe fifteen minutes later.

“Which one?” Vala asked fawning over him with her looks, words and actions, possessively smoothing the front of his jacket as she spoke.

“The one after I fought the replicators,” Mitchell replied in an even tone, for once seeming quite at ease with Vala’s flirting. Indeed, if anything he was soaking it up in an amused, slightly offhand but engaged manner.

“Ooh, is it pie?” John asked referring to the latest and by now almost forgotten (by everyone else) round of I spy.

“Pie…” Vala growled, her voice low and sultry, her eyes devouring Mitchell rather than the aforementioned comestible. Her stomach also growled, for different reasons of its own. She licked her lips and straddled him. He stared back at her with the merest hint of a grin. They stared at each other in silence, clearly no longer hungry just for food.

“John…” Aeryn spoke softly, trying to secure John’s attention away from the antics of their fellow prisoners and from the impressive array of unreachable food that they were being teased with.

“Yeah, babe?” John replied, turning to give her his full attention. Their gazes locked with an intensity that made the antics of their fellow captives seem chaste.

“There’s something….  A smell… a sensation… I recognise.” She squeezed the words out as though struggling to control her breathing. Which indeed she was. “From Talyn….  Drexim…”

“What’s that, babe?” John asked, invading her personal space. He leant in close enough for their noses to duel softly against each other. Aeryn, for her part, was admirably multitasking, pressing on with her explanation while reciprocating John’s amorous overtures.

“Gas. It heightens… emotions… desires… “ Her eyes fluttered closed and she put out a hand to steady herself as their foreheads joined in the nuzzling. And her hand landed with a soft squelch in a bowl of jello.

“That’d explain…” John began, lips seeking out hers.

Aeryn’s eyes sprang open and she pulled her face back a dench. “JOHN!” she exclaimed, lifting her hand between them. It was dripping with jello. “The force field! It’s gone!”

“Hell yeah!” John shouted, lifting her hand to his lips and, maintaining as much eye -contact as physically possible, slowly, deliberately and with a broad grin, began to lick her hand clean. “That means we get to eat!”

@@@

“Whoa!” Mitchell cried from nearby as, no longer supported by the force field, he tumbled backwards onto the laden and now accessible table, borne down onto his back by Vala’s weight. Bowls and plates tumbled to the floor. Nobody paid the scattering crockery and comestibles much heed.

Vala broke her concentration on Cam just enough to lift a slice of apple pie which she proceeded to dangle an inch or two above Mitchell’s lips.

“Are you still hungry? For pie?” She teased as he snapped playfully at the treat and, when he had managed to secure a morsel, Vala rewarded him by lowering more of it within reach of his devouring lips. “Because I know I am…”

@@@

All this went largely unnoticed by John and Aeryn, as they had more important matters to contend with.

“Looks like chocolate sauce!”  John announced, picking up a small, white jug and wafting it under his nose. 

“Give!” Aeryn snapped her fingers, arched an eyebrow and, when he didn’t comply, snatched it from him.

John picked up a large, juicy strawberry and just as he reached out to offer it to her lips, to his total fascination, Aeryn seemed to become suddenly rather maladroit, ‘accidentally’ dibbling the chocolate sauce down herself. John smirked, watching fascinated as the chocolatey sauce headed south and out of sight between her loomas.

“How clumsy …” Aeryn remarked, moving the jug so that now it was dribbling slightly down John’s nose. John barely seemed to notice. He certainly didn’t seem to mind. His attention was clearly elsewhere. Although he still managed to bring the strawberry to her pursed lips, where the fruit was immediately suckled upon.

“I think we need to get that mess cleaned up…” John helpfully suggested, tugging at the zip of Aeryn’s leather vest. “Before you get any on your clothes.”

“And how exactly…?” Aeryn broke from devouring the strawberry, arched an eyebrow and smirked, allowing him to complete her unzipping unremarked and unimpeded. “Seeing as we have no cleaning cloths…?” But her question ended in a gasp as John, always inventive and up to a challenge, demonstrated that he had found a way.

As John pressed forward so Aeryn began to lean backwards. A noisy and somewhat wasteful displacement of a plate of crackers from table to floor ensued as Aeryn allowed herself to relax and recline further onto the table.

“What was..?” Aeryn enquired, although her demeanour indicated she wasn’t too concerned to investigate the minor disaster for herself.

“Crackers,” John informed her between licks which were only partly successful in cleaning up the chocolate sauce spillage. “They don’t matter.” Aeryn nodded her heartfelt agreement. As her fingers found a banana and clenched it firmly.

@@@

All of this went largely unnoticed by Cam and Vala: Cam’s hand had recently settled on a baguette, which he had offered up between them allowing Vala to nibble on the end of it. She opened wide and took a healthy bite, causing Cam to shiver with extrapolated excitement tinged with concern for his own safety.

While Cam pondered, Vala’s hands had been scrabbling around the food piled up around them and had secured a tasty-looking pair of macaroons. Taking one in each hand, she waved the rounded, perfectly formed delicacies in front of Cam, catching his attention, before presenting first one, then the other to his lips in a teasing manner.

Cam nipped, licked and lipped at the sweet, biscuit-like offerings, taking advantage of every fleeting opportunity that Vala afforded him. Such was the vigour of their play that the baguette took a blow from Vala’s forearm strong enough to snap it almost in half. Cam winced and allowed the drooping  baguette to drop from his grip, but it was soon replaced in his hands with a can of compressed, squirtable cream.

“How about we squirt a bit of this on your macaroons?” Cam suggested, making Vala groan in anticipation, sigh and bite her bottom lip. She gave an almost chaste nod of agreement to Cam’s plan. Her private moment of contemplation was interrupted by a loud ejaculation from behind the profiterole pyramid that separated them from John and Aeryn:

“That’s it, bite on my juicy a….!” Crichton exhorted the Vala-lookalike, his words then degenerating into a long, heartfelt “Oh, yesssssssssssssssss!”

A momentary look of shock crossed Cam’s features but was soon dispelled by Vala laughing off the interruption: “Tasty! How about you just spray it straight into my mouth?” she encouraged with a radiant grin.

Cam needed little further encouragement, raising the nozzle to her pouting lips and squeezing the actuator…

At the same moment that Cam’s cream cascaded forth, filling Vala’s mouth to overflowing, splashing into her hair and dripping down her chin and onto her tank-top, Aeryn’s firmly-held banana finally succumbed to her steely grip, bursting from the tip, squirting mashed banana goo across the diners.

However, neither couple paused for long – their drexim-induced appetites were so heightened that they could not be so easily sated. The next course was already calling them!

@@@

“Hmmm!” Vala groaned with unconcealed rapture. “There’s crumble!”

And from behind their viewing screens, the foursome’s captors, a strange and deviant species known as Mibbits, watched studiously, attentively, and with considerable satisfaction of their own, albeit with some jealousy and a growing feeling of the munchies.

“Do you think we might have overdone the drexim?” One asked, not entirely seriously.

“Absolutely not,” answered another with a chortle. “Although… well, it was your idea, so you can clean up the mess, when they’re done.”

“What!? That’s not right!” protested the first speaker apropos of Aeryn’s latest culinary creation.

“Don’t worry about it…. “ A third Mibbit interjected. “I think they’re going to be a while yet…  see?”

They all paid closer attention to the screen, and did indeed see.

“What’s she planning on doing with that…?” One of them asked in breathless, almost worried wonder.

“Surely not?” Another gasped.

“It’ll never!”

“I think it will!”

“I think it is!”

“Oh My!!!” The Mibbits agreed as one.

“I think the drive to revive may have been successful!” One of the Mibbits pronounced. “But I think we’re going to need to order some more food! Pizza, anyone?”

 

The End


End file.
